Special
by Witch Baby Wigg Bat
Summary: Gabriel Gray wasn't always a serial killer, motivated by the hunger to kill those dubbed "Heroes." A long time ago, he was just a boy who wanted to be something more, something special . . .
1. One

May 29th, 1987

It's another of those hot days in the south, and school is almost out. It's a lot more difficult being a fourth-grader than most people would imagine. The other kids think I'm weird. Maybe I am. If it's true, then I can't really help it.

My father thinks that I keep a diary, and he calls me weak for it. But this is a journal. All of the most important people in history kept a journal. And someday, I'm going to be one of them. I'm going to be important, and nobody will think I'm weird. I'll be special, not like the other kids in my class. They all want to be vets and policemen and firefighters. Not me, though. I'm going to be special, I just know it.

My parents are fighting again. I don't know what it's about this time. Maybe money, possibly me. They fight about me a lot. My dad says that my mom isn't raising me right. He says I'm not a little kid anymore and that I need to have responsibilities. I do a lot of stuff around the house for mom, like polishing her snow globes. She collects snow globes. I try to count all of them, but it doesn't seem possible, because there are too many. My father says that I'm going to be the man of the house someday, so I need to be prepared. He's already got a job set up for me when I turn sixteen. I'm going to work at his watch-fixing shop. He even changed it to Gray and Son's. But there's nothing special about fixing watches. Still, I don't want to make him mad by saying that I don't want to fix watches for a living.

I'm turning ten in a few days, on June 2. I can't wait. I'm not expecting to get anything, but I just like birthdays.

I just heard the door slam, and my mother is crying. I'm going to go see what's wrong. I'll write some other time. Bye.

Gabriel


	2. Two

June 2nd, 1987

It's my birthday today and I am officially ten. But it doesn't matter, because my father still hasn't come back and my mother won't stop crying. I think he left for real this time. He was always threatening her by saying that he would leave one day and never come back. Maybe that time had come.

Even though she hasn't stopped crying hardly, my mother took the time to make me a birthday cake and buy me a present. It's a new pair of pants. That's not what I wanted, of course, but I still love them, because I know how tight money is for my mom. A new pair of pants for me is like ten bars of gold for other people. I don't know how many dollars that would be, but certainly more than I've ever had.

The birthday cake was angel food with chocolate frosting. It had candles and everything, ten, just like me. My mom told me to make a wish before I blew out my candles, so I thought really hard, and made the perfect wish.

Only, I can't tell you, because then it won't come true. And it has to come true, it just _has _to.

I wonder if I'll still have to work at the watch-fixing shop, seeing as how my father's gone. I think my mom would like it if I worked there to keep it going, because it's all she has left of my father. If I have to settle for being a watch-fixer to make my mom happy, then I'll do it.

I don't feel any different, now that I'm ten and in the double-digits. But I guess I must be different. What else is age there for, unless it makes you different?

Alright, I can't keep it a secret any longer. I'll tell you what I wished for.

Right before I blew out my candles, this is what I wished:

_I wish that I was special._

It's going to come true. I can just feel it.

Well, Mother is telling me that it's time for bed. I won't be able to sleep tonight, though. I'm too jittery from my wish. But I have to go. I'll write later.

Gabriel


	3. Three

August 28th, 1991

I can't believe I've neglected you for four whole years, journal. I guess, being a ten-year-old, I never did have much to say. But I'm fourteen now, and I'll be starting high school next month. I'm excited. I can hardly sit still, because I can't wait to learn all those new things and make new friends. Maybe this time they'll stick around; not that I'm feeling sorry for myself or anything. It's their loss, really. I'm just too special, I guess. Or, rather, I will be. Every birthday since I turned ten, I've wished for the same thing: to be special. So far, though, I'm just the same, old Gabriel with messy, black hair and crooked glasses.

Father never came home. That fateful night, a few days before my tenth birthday, he left and never came home. My mother pretends that she doesn't mind, but I still hear her cry every night. She's a petite, fragile woman and it really shook her when dad left. I just wish that there was something that I could _do_. But I'm just a regular, fourteen-year-old boy; there's nothing whatsoever I can do to help the matter.

I'm listening to the radio, but it's fuzzy so I'm trying to fix the antennas. I'm good with this mechanical stuff, usually. I've even learned how to fix watches, just for my mom's sake. She's so proud of me for following in my father's footsteps. But I won't walk out like he did. I won't be like him.

I can barely hear Nirvana's 'Smell's Like Teen Spirit' crooning through the speakers. This is my favorite song, as of now. Yeah, me and a million other kids.

In two years, I'm going to take over at Gray and Son's. My mom's been running it, but I secretly fix the watches in the back. It's a family business, so I'm allowed to do that. It should no longer Gray and Son's, though. The original Gray left four years ago. We should change it to And Son's, although that wouldn't make much sense. We could do it just to spite my father if he ever planned on coming back. He doesn't get to come back, though. He left us.

My mom just came in and gave me a bowl of cherries. She planted a cherry tree when my father left, maybe hoping to replace him with a blooming cherry tree. But the cherry tree won't hold her like my father used to. Then again, my father never sprouted cherries.

Business has been good lately, even though some people are bigots who think it's wrong that a woman is in charge. I wish people were more mature about that.

Well, there's really nothing else for me to tell you. I probably won't write until after my first day of high school. I'll have a lot more to talk about, then. I can't wait.

Gabriel


	4. Four

September 4th, 1991

Today was my first day of high school, and I love it already. Everyone there is so different compared to the middle school kids that I'm used to. These people are so much nicer to me; well, most of them are. I think I'll join band. I've always wanted to play an instrument, and besides, I've already met at least three people who are in band and say that they love it. I _told_ you that they were friendly.

All in all, I had a great day. I suppose I should start from the beginning, though

I woke up this morning and slipped into my usual garments: a plaid, button-up shirt that was a bit large for my frame and a ripped, cuffed pair of jeans. Mom says I look like a hooligan or whatever, but I guess my messy hair also gives that effect. I'm already tall for only being fourteen. I'm 5'8" and still growing, or so I'm told. That's what everyone says, though. I like being tall, because it makes me a little less bizarre. Not that I mind being a little bizarre, but people don't always want to be your friend when you're strange.

I don't know where my mom was this morning, but she wasn't at home, so I had to walk to school, lugging my backpack the whole way there. It'll help build my arm muscles, though, so it's worth it.

It was nice and warm out today, still being summer and all. I honestly can't wait for fall to begin, though, because it's my favorite season. Winter was too cold, summer was too hot, and spring was too . . . springy. Autumn was the only one that I didn't have a problem with. Speaking of which, I met a girl today. Her name happens to be Autumn. But I'm not there yet, so you'll have to wait a little longer, journal.

My first period class was Algebra I. At the beginning, the guy sitting next to me leaned over and asked for a pencil and some paper. I always come prepared, so I gave him both. During class, he started talking to me, and told me that his name was Billy. He thinks my name is cool, but calls me Gabe. Billy's one of those hardcore guys that everyone wants to be friends with. I think his grunge attitude is kind of just for show, because he seemed really friendly.

I made various friends along the way to lunch, including Max, Shellie, and Meg. Meg is my favorite, I think, because she's the most unique. She's in band, so I might join because of her.

As I took my seat in the cafeteria, I got my first glimpse of the most beautiful girl I had ever laid eyes on.

She appeared to walk on air, as though she were an angel. Her hair was auburn, like maple tree leaves in October. She had those eyes that were the perfect shade of emerald, and seemed to burn with passion. Her lips were full and red, like the cherries on the tree at my house. I didn't think she was real, to tell you the truth, until Meg caught me staring at this mystery girl.

"That's Autumn Hartley," she explained bleakly, "She's the most popular girl at the school, even though she's only a sophomore. Not the prettiest, though." I disagreed. I had never seen anyone as beautiful as her, and I doubted that I ever would. But I just nodded my head, sighing, and went back to my canned corn (which I hated).

My class after lunch hour was English 101. It wasn't my favorite, but I still excelled in all of my classes.

I walked into the classroom, noticing that no one was here yet, so I had time to read. I was a comic book geek, I confess, but I liked real novels, as well. Like the Phantom of the Opera, or The Outsiders. Both were wonderful books, and I had already read them either two or three times. They were just as brilliant every time.

I heard the door open, and chanced a look at the figure who took a seat next to me. It was none other than Autumn Hartley. I tried to keep my breathing even and not let my mind run away with me. I looked over at her a few times, noticing that she was also reading. She was reading The X-Men comic books. I couldn't help but smile and let out a sharp bark of laughter. I watched her out of the corner of my eye snap her head up to look at me.

"Is there anything wrong?" she chirped in a sing-song voice. I slipped the bookmark into the book and looked up at Autumn.

"No," I assured her, eyes wide, trying to look as innocent as possible. I watched her eyes dart to the cover of my book; her mouth stretched into a smile.

"The Time Machine, huh?" she wondered.

"Yes," I sighed.

"I love that book." She was perfect, she really was.

"Me, too," was all that I could say.

"I'm Autumn," she introduced herself.

"Gabriel," I smirked.

"That's a nice name," she mused. People began filing into class then, and I watched Autumn hurry to put away her comic books. I guess she's too cool or something. I don't mind.

The class dragged on forever, it seemed, until finally the bell rang.

"It was nice meeting you, Gabriel," Autumn told me.

"Yeah, you too," I sighed, watching her walk away from me, her hips swaying back and forth.

The rest of the school day was pretty normal; nothing else happened and I didn't have any more conversations with Autumn.

But at least I talked to her.

I guess that's all for now. Oh, and Meg invited me to her party this Saturday. I'm going to go. My first high school party; I can't wait. I'll write later.

Gabriel


End file.
